Psych
by callisoluna
Summary: Ponyboy's in a psych ward. I am terrible at summaries but the story is  hopefully  better. Insert obvious disclaimer here. Told from OC's POV. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

People call me crazy. It isn't exactly a secret anyways. Not when you're never by yourself in public, always with a chaperone. Not when you spend weekdays in a psychiatric ward.

The ward deals with all kinds of 'issues', like eating disorders, self-mutilation, and much much more. The brochure to 'St. Francis Academy' is laughable, with a picture of the sprawling lawns, pristine gardens, and picture-perfect administrators trying to establish how wonderful it is. No 'in-patients' are shown.

Do I think I'm crazy? No. I have full control over my mental capabilities. Maybe I am crazy in a way. See, no one really thinks they're crazy in psych ward, they think they are normal and no one understands. I for one, think I'm fine.

The alarm clock rings to start the day. I have no idea what would happen in a normal psych ward. (Um, oxymoron much?) The founder, Mr. Francis, tried a new innovative technique of rehabilitation: for it to resemble a school. This 'ward' is more like a private school, but with therapy instead of P.E. and monitors in the classroom. So anyways, unlike the stereotype, I dress in a T-shirt with jeans, not a uniform. Only difference is, once I start to head down the stairs for breakfast, I'm frisked.

My friend Anisha is sitting at a table and I go join her. Well, friend isn't much of a term to describe her. Most of our conversations include me trying to boost her self-esteem and get her to eat something. Sometimes we talk like normal friends; the breakthrough was when she told me about living with an eating disorder. But today, we sit in silence.

Eating a piece of fruit, I notice a stir in the cafeteria. We have a new kid. This isn't rare in itself, but something about him causes the news of a new kid to be spread to our table. Further investigation of the grapevine tells that he is arriving by late afternoon and apparently, he was kind of big news in our little corner of Tulsa. No mention of a name. Being shy by nature, I'm unpopular, even in a ward. Unless I directly ask, which is unlikely, he'll probably just be morning news, nothing more.

Anisha and I head to Advanced Math, which includes about 10 kids and about 5 guards. I hate those guards. Fiddling with their fancy red ties or suit collars, they pretend to be reading a book while staring at you under their tinted glasses. Mr. Fitzgerald, the teacher, is interupted from a lecture on Pythagoras by yet another guard entering the room. Almost hidden from view from the guards, erm, corpulent frame is the new kid. He has reddish-brownish hair, greenish-gray eyes, and an aura of pure embarrassment. Slowly, because I think that guard has never done anything quickly in his life, the guard faces the class and tells us we have a new classmate. His name is Ponyboy Curtis.


	2. Chapter 2

People snicker. Even though some of us are literally certifiably insane, we look at this new kid with looks ranging from mirth to pity. Ponyboy, that's an interesting name. The teacher hands him some papers, schedules and the like, and directs Ponyboy to sit next to me. Cautiously, Ponyboy delicately sits in the chair next to me, as if I'm a bomb waiting to go off. I smile at him, which is kind of uncomfortable because I haven't smiled in a long time and any unneccessary movement of my facial muscles feels odd on my face. Me smiling at him doesn't seem to reassure him, maybe I look like I'm grimacing or maybe he's creeped out by this place as much as I was at first. He doesn't belong here, I can tell.

Throughout Math, I start to like Ponyboy a bit more. He and I raise our hands for every question the teacher asks, so it's like a silent competition. It's not much, most people would say it's not anything, but I feel like I'm closer to Ponyboy.

Dinnertime; I hate it. I hate it more than breakfast because at breakfast kids are groggy and quiet, but at dinnertime kids are fully awake and loud. The silence at Anisha and I's table is magnified, and my self esteem lowers each day. I glimpse, above the pages of my book, Ponyboy. He has a flock of people all around him, popular people who have already gotten used to his name and already know his story. They direct him to their table and find him a place to sit. At this point I feel like a stalker so I divert my eyes, but before I go back to my book I notice that Ponyboy seems more uncomfortable than I am.

It turns out, Ponyboy and I have just about every class together. This makes me happy; am I developing a crush? Doubtful, I know almost nothing about Ponyboy. Nothing happens at all through the first week. Even though I'm pretty sure I have a crush on Ponyboy, I don't obsess over him as much as I did the first day.

Unhappily, the weekend rolls around. It's sort of like a daycare on Saturday morning, all the kids (which isn't allot) pile into the cafeteria and his or her parent or guardian signs them out. My parents come later, after doing all their errands they reluctantly pick up me. Ponyboy's guardian comes first. I say guardian because he looks young and handsome, too young to be a parent. They hug briefly, then Ponyboy's guardian signs Ponyboy out and they go on their way.

Around an hour later, my parents come. They're fairly good as parents go, paying this school's tuition and feeding me, but we don't exactly have a close relationship. Understandable, since they think I'm looney tunes and I think they're wrong. Mother comes in, signs me out, then pulls me out of the recesses of my book with a forced smile. I smile back, even though the motion is still unfamiliar. We get into the shiny car and drive home, Mother giving me information and questions and me responding in monosyllables. At home, I sit at the windowseat and stare, just thinking about nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

A new day began without my notice, slowly filling my room with soft orange light. I'm awakened when this light shines through to the far corner of the room, where I'm buried underneath a mass of white blankets. I stand up quickly; I'm never groggy in the mornings. I walk over to the window where my book, dog-eared and lying open, awaits. While walking over to the window, I see pictures of me, when I was normal, when I had normal friends and a normal life. Those pictures are covered in dust now, though, and the friends are either dead or embarrassed to come over to a crazy person's house.

Mother cracks open the door to my room slowly, frightened, I think, of what she thinks her crazy daughter's up to. We used to be really close, my mother and I, but now we're kind of embarrassed of each other. She asks me if I want to go to the grocery store with her. I contemplate this for a while; obviously I don't want to go, so I debate between pleasing myself or herself. I choose her, tell her so, and close the door so I can get dressed, leaving her mildly pleased in the doorway.

The situation at the grocery store is awkward, to say the least. I'm even more introverted than usual in public. I try to put up a face of indifference, but fail miserably. I probably look miserable, trailing behind my mother and not bothering to answer any of her questions. She doesn't give up, for more her sake than mine, I suppose trying to fit the role of perfect mother with a moody daughter.

My eyes alight on someone. Ponyboy! He's with some guy with rusty-colored sideburns, and he looks normal. I suddenly wish I was talking to my mother, laughing, looking normal. Since that's not possible, I ask Mother if I can go to the restroom the grocery store provided when it was also some old guy's house. To try to hide. I try to squeeze myself between the produce and fast walk to the restroom. After a while, I walk out, and the coast seems clear. I walk normally then, with my mother's face in sight, a few aisles away.

Someone says hi. I walk quicker, because I know no one so he couldn't be talking to me. Suddenly a hand is on my shoulder. I turn around, and it's Ponyboy. He must have been popular to purposely make contact like that. He questions if he knows me, and I feel smaller as I reply with a yes. We strike up some sort of conversation, not a normal one, but a conversation.

The guy with the rusty sideburns asks who I am. Ponyboy replies I'm a friend from school and I admire his tact. Saying a friend from

school sounds allot better than a person who in all my classes at the psycho ward. My mother stares at me wide-eyed so I manage a good bye and take myself from the conversation.

At home, my mom is happier, humming and the like. When I go to my room she deflates a little, I guess she thinks I'm suddenly going to regain my social life or something.

I finish my book after a couple of hours, and decide to go outside for a walk. I don't bother telling my mother because I know she'd disapprove. Sneaking out the window on the first floor, I feel a kind of rush that I haven't felt in a while. I won't go far, I decide, just to the train-tracks and back.

I don't notice the gang of boys with switchblades until it's too late.


End file.
